


The Monotony of Solitude

by hollyhock13



Series: Whumptober 2019 [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Detective Comics (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: A Lonely Place of Living, Canon Compliant, F/M, Hallucinations, Not in a traditional way exactly, Prompt: isolation, Self-Harm, The TimSteph is very minor and innocent, Whumptober 2019, but it’s there - Freeform, depending on your version of Canon, if you’re looking for anything else, please keep looking, this poor kid should honestly be so messed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-12-02 01:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyhock13/pseuds/hollyhock13
Summary: Everyone craves time alone until it’s forced upon them





	The Monotony of Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> Sigh. I had a lot of troubles with this one and rewrote it a couple of times (thus the lateness). I do think it turned out the better for it.
> 
> This is set while Tim is in an inter dimensional prison for no reason and no one is even looking for him 🙃🙃🙃 Continuity is whatever I want it to be, but basically Pre-52 with a few New-52/Rebirth plot points, and the TimSteph is the uncomplicated version of them from Rebirth, not from Pre-52 because I don’t like it there, but their relationship is pretty important to Tim when he gets kidnapped. So Tim rescued Bruce from time, lost Robin to Damian, and has never patched things up with Dick here. 
> 
> Thanks to[ @Ursapharoh15 ](%E2%80%9C) for putting up with my ridiculous changes of mind and to all of you who are still bothering to read these!

Tim picks at his destroyed uniform while Alfred watches disapprovingly from the corner. Tim ignores him, knows he’s only a figment if his imagination.

“If you were real, you’d insist that staying in the same dirty and torn clothing for so long is disgusting,” Tim says to the figure in the corner. “And you’d be right. But I don’t have anything else to change into, so I don’t know what you want me to do.”

He tosses a small rock from the ground toward whatever it is that acts as a force field and keeps him in here. It bounces away, just as it had every other time Tim attempted this. He’d spent so long when he first arrived trying to understand the mechanism so he could potentially exploit it. Or instruct a rescue team on how to do so.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t found anything. He was hoping that when a guard came by he might be able to watch how it interacts, but he hasn’t seen a soul since he’s been here. Nobody taunting him, nobody hurting him, nobody rescuing him. Not a one.

Food appears while he sleeps. He’s tried to stay up to watch it come in, but he can’t even tell how long he stayed up. Nothing changes, and it’s driving him crazy!

Tim tries to push down the anger, but it’s a pointless pursuit. There’s no one here to judge him, or be hurt by him. No one except his imaginary butler. So he rages.

He starts by tearing at the bed, gutting the pillow and shredding the blanket. Where is Bruce?! He should have found him by now, even if he’s somewhere distant! He wants a hug, he wants to breathe fresh air, he wants something other than this, this...cafeteria food! He wants to hold Steph’s hand and be destroyed by Cass in a spar! He wants to outsmart criminals and wear civilian clothes! He wants something to do besides NOTHING!

When the bed is as destroyed as it’s going to get, he moves on to the toilet area. He holds the piece of metal he had managed to pry from the bed several rounds of rage ago. It’s mostly ineffective, but maybe,  _maybe_ if he manages to do some real damage someone will have to come in.

Someone will  _have_ to intervene, or he’ll drown. He’s tested water against the field, and it doesn’t pass through. And honestly? If no one comes, if no one intervenes? Maybe he’ll be better off dead.

The metal bar breaks long before it does any damage to the sink or toilet, and Tim throws it in frustration. Maybe...

He takes a few steps back before whirling toward the metal fixtures with a form-perfect spinning kick. The pain is not instant, not with all the anger swirling in his system, but when it comes, it takes him down. He drops to the floor in agony, and knows his foot is broken. 

Huh. He’s never broken a bone before. Maybe his captor will have to treat it, or maybe it will get infected and he’ll be spared the rest of his miserable life here. Or maybe he’ll have to suffer even more. The pain, though, does give him something else to focus on.

He gets lost for a few minutes in just putting varying amounts of pressure on the injured limb. It’s excruciating in exactly the way he needs right now—and isn’t that just a great way to emphasize how well his life is going? 

His mind drifts to other times when pain was the only thing that could ground him: when his mother died and his father was in a coma; when Ariana died; his father’s death, and that subsequent horrible year where he lost everything.

Tim doesn’t realize he’s crying until the tears have soaked the collar of his undersuit. Great. Now he’s going to have to try and wash that too.

The rollercoaster of emotion has left him exhausted. He decides now is as good a time as any for a nap, no matter what disapproving looks Alfred is giving him from the corner. After all, nothing ever changes here, so nothing really matters.


End file.
